


Afterimages

by hellomiho



Category: Throne of Glass Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: EoS spoilers, F/M, Gen, What if Lysandra had to be Aelin for years, years after EoS
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-12
Updated: 2018-09-12
Packaged: 2019-07-11 06:49:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,656
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15966950
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hellomiho/pseuds/hellomiho
Summary: A servant’s observations of a triumphant and yet broken court.





	Afterimages

She had been but a babe at the time of that battle to end all battles, the one where the gods and goddesses of new rose up to fight against the monsters of old, the battle whose remnants still seemed to echo across the realm.

Only murky memories of the time before remained and they appeared only in short fragments in a rare nightmare.

But Terrasen, Terrasen had survived.

She had grown up hearing the epics and ballads of the warriors that now led the world in a new era of peace and prosperity; how dozens of the most powerful people in the world had united under the helm of Aelin Galathynius in order to protect their world from utter domination and decimation.

Her favorite had always been the great sprawling epics surrounding the great King and Queen of Terrasen, that spoke of a love that had set the world on fire with its ferocity. A couple so well matched in love and power that the elements bowed in awe before them, a couple that had earned their love for each other and had fought relentlessly against their immutable destinies until even the Fates were powerless against them.

A Queen who loved her country so much she continuously gave herself to it freely, and a King who loved the Queen to the point of salvation.

_(Carranam, lovers,_ **_mates_ ** _)_

She had never been disillusioned enough to believe that she would find or even have a mate. She had no great power, no great beauty, only a quiet and steady personality. But she had been content with the idea of just serving in the Palace, constantly being in the presence of such love.

And yet, having worked in the palace for the majority of her young life, she had grown out of even those illusions.

Queen Aelin Galathynius was everything the stories said: fierce and passionate in both temperament and looks, with stunning blonde hair and eyes that always seemed to sparkle with energy and mischief. Despite the heavy crown that rested on her head and the powers that everyone knew were resting just underneath her fingertips, she had a magnetic personability to her that had everyone who met her, half in love with her. Even if the Lords sometimes grumbled about her stubborn nature or friends turned diplomatic emissaries seemed to be at their wits' end, no one could deny their undying loyalty to her.

And King Rowan was everything the old tales said: the most powerful Fae male that the world had ever seen, capable of decimating cities with barely a breath. His tall and muscular stature alone was an intimidating sight, even as they only hinted at the sheer power that always lay beneath. He was never cruel to her or any of the other servants but there was something about him that had her trembling with an emotion she couldn't name after every encounter.

With their rulers, Terrasen was thriving but the court…. the court was not.

Silent as she was, she watched as in every public event, the two rulers would stand united, every bit the power couple they were declared to be. And yet, once all eyes but hers moved away, she saw how the King ever so slightly retreated from his wife, as if every touch was painful, ripping out a part of him. She saw how for a brief second, his steely grey eyes slipped and showed a glimpse at the utter devastation that had never once deserted him.

It was worse after the hunting trips. Every three months, the king and his cadre set off on a week long hunting trip. Where exactly they went to hunt, what exactly they were hunting (and she shuddered to think what would qualify as game to the most powerful Fae alive) were never known but at the end of the week, he would always come back, exhausted with a terrifying hollowness in his eyes. And she saw how the Queen let out a minuscule exhale of relief every time he came back, as if she were never sure that he would.

She was a silent observer every time General Aedion Ashvryer came to court (a number she could count on one hand). After the war, he had secluded himself in the mountains with the troops, with a resolute declaration that Terrasen would never be unprepared. She saw how he knelt at the feet of his rulers and how he studiously avoided the heavy gaze of the Queen in what seemed to be an overt display of deference. She saw how the Queen and the General mirrored each other in these moments, not only in their gorgeous blonde exteriors but in the pain and longing that gripped their eyes.

If she had been a braver person, she would have imagined desperately asking them, shaking them all by their great shoulders that dwarfed her own slight stature: 'Where does your sadness come from? You won, Terrasen won, what could there be to be sad about?'

But she wasn't and so she continued to watch the facade of a perfect kingdom and the cracks that seemed to grow in it with every passing day.

_(A general who could not forgive, a king who could not forget, and a queen who was not)_

One morning, she awoke to the court in a flurry of action as the various lords and barons tried to make sense of the sudden disappearance of their rulers.

The Queen, the King, the General. All had slipped away under the covers of darkness, leaving behind a single note that named Lord Allsbrook as the interim ruler until their return.

A week passed as the Lords continued to furiously debate the running of the kingdom but she kept her head down and continued to do her work as needed in the frenzy. As she passed by an open window, a large scarlet mass seen in the corner of her eye caught her attention. She made to lean outside to discern the source of the outburst of colour, when a pulse of warm power wrapped around and through her. Before her mind could catch up, she found herself instinctively walking to the throne room. She was not alone; the Lords, the other servants, every inhabitant of the Palace and more all glided to the throne room, beckoned by an invisible force.

Upon their entrance, she looked away, her eyes needing a moment to adjust to the brightness that erupted.

Sunlight streamed into the room, focused on a single, breathtaking beacon of light who stood regally in front of her throne. Pure white hair fell in tangled locks just above her shoulders, framing a face with a raw, ropy scar that vined its way down the right side, from her temple to her jaw.

Her fae blood ran true and strong, and although she seemed otherwise unblemished, she carried herself with an unmistakable regality and maturity that made the girl want to question whether the Queen was truly the one who was hundreds of years younger than the King.

Reverent whispers of Mala made their way across the room before being replaced by louder murmurs of "Aelin."

_Aelin, Aelin, Aelin_

The ray of sunlight passed by but the glow did not leave the Queen, instead growing stronger around her and wrapping her in an untouchable glow, as if she had been the one bolstering the sun rather than the other way around.

And heart wrenching as it was to pull her eyes away from the Queen, she ripped them away and looked at the people at her side. There was a gorgeous brown haired woman she had never seen before, although the almost catlike features seemed strangely familiar. Her eyes shone with pride and gratitude, tears streaming silently down her beautiful cheeks.

Several feet away from her, the General was also there, kneeling, but this was different than the other times he had knelt to the Queen. He knelt like a man full of shame and gratitude, who had undeservingly been granted absolution.

A man whose face she did not know, but whose crown and prominent scar marked him as the King of Adarlan, was also present, relief and awe visibly dominating his emotions as he too stared at the gleaming figure.

Another woman was a distance apart from the Adarlanian King, her own crown and iron nails marking her as the Queen of the Witches. Despite her famed ruthlessness, the witch looked at the Queen with no small amount of respect in her golden eyes.

There were countless other people, the ones she had only heard about in stories before, and as one, they all bowed to the Queen.

And the King.

This was the King of the epics, although she found herself faltering for words able to convey the depth of the emotion on display.

The King glowed, staring at his Queen as if even blinking was too long of a time to not have her in his eyes. There was a warmth she had never before seen in his eyes, turning them into a molten silver as they devoured the image of his wife like a starving man who could not be satiated. The sheer magnamosity of his love was overwhelming to the point that she herself wanted to fall to her knees and weep for the greatness of that love.

And she did.

She wept and wept for the pain she had borne witness to for the past years, for the pain she knew she had only seen the very surface of, for the love that was so evident in this room, not just from the King and the others but the Queen herself as Aelin faced her people.

She wept at the realisation that the scarlet she had seen painting the landscape that morning were vast swathes of blooming kingsbloom flowers.

_"And at long last, Aelin Ashvryer Galathynius was home."_

 

**Author's Note:**

> *I keep planning to edit this because I published it immediately after writing it, without taking a chance to look over it. But I keep finding myself bogged down by other things so I apologise.  
> The last line is a quote from the ending of Queen of Shadows.
> 
> I was rereading the series and the ending of Empire of Storms really is so heartbreaking, the epitome of a Pyrrhic victory. I wanted to write a fic exploring what would happen if Lysandra actually had to be Aelin for years, and I kept imagining a girl who's heard all of the stories about Aelin and co. but finds the actual palace to be a pale imitation of them.
> 
> I kept the specifics of what happened purposely vague since the narrator would have limited knowledge as a servant. Somehow, they managed to beat Erawen and the Valgs but Aelin remained imprisoned. I wrote Aelin as having received a new scar (multiple, but the servant only sees the most prominent one), particularly on her face because I thought the idea of Rowan tattooing over it, making her have a matching tattoo of sorts with him would be a really nice image.


End file.
